Not Quite a Memory
by Flash Foreward
Summary: Something isn't right in the universe and Q has to find a way to fix it. Of course, he also needs his pawns to play their parts properly, but that never happens. Why should Wesley Crusher be any different?


**Spoilers:** Vague for all of Star Trek: The Next Generation with specific references to "The First Duty" and "Journey's End" and for the first episode of Voyager, "Caretaker" (it goes AU after that)

**Not Quite a Memory**

**Prologue**

He wasn't sure what woke him at first. His room was dark, no light was coming from anywhere that could have broken into his sleep, and he couldn't hear anything that might have done the trick, either. Yet still he was awake, sitting straight up in bed, peering into the darkness. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he could just make out a human shape standing at the foot of his bed. He could see no details of face or clothes, but, somehow, he knew.

"Hello, Q," he said, his voice quiet and scratchy with sleep.

"Wesley," the familiar voice replied, and the shadow nodded its head. It was far more formal than Wes could remember Q ever being, and that was enough to unnerve him.

Not that he would let Q know that. "What are you doing here?" he asked, running a hand over his face to try and rub some of the sleep from his eyes. He didn't particularly want to be awake, but with Q around it was in his best interests to be as alert as possible.

"Fixing things," Q replied in that same, terrifyingly formal voice.

Wesley was starting to wonder if it was even Q at all. "Lights to half," he said, and the lights came up enough for him to see Q standing at the foot of his bed but not enough to hurt his still tired eyes.

"Do you feel better now?" Q asked in a snide, snarky voice that quickly put Wesley's fears to rest.

"Yes, Actually," Wes said. "Now, what are you fixing?"

"This," Q said, gesturing around him. "This isn't your path."

"According to the Travelers it is," Wes said, doing nothing to hide the annoyance in his voice. Dealing with Q's semi-cryptic self was grating on his nerves and he just wanted to roll over and fall back asleep. Or, better yet, to wake up and discover this whole thing was a ridiculous dream.

He knew better, of course, and he sat still, waiting for Q to speak again.

"The Travelers are wrong," Q said. His voice was earnest and insistent, a quality Wesley was pretty sure had never been attributed to Q. It took Wes by surprise and he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts.

After a short pause, he grabbed at _something_ to say, grumbling out "How presumptuous" before he really thought about the words or how Q might take them. Not that he cared, really.

"I am Q, I'm allowed to be presumptuous," Q snapped, cutting through Wesley's thoughts.

"Of course you are," Wesley said, rolling his eyes. "Look, are you going to tell me exactly what you're doing here or do I have to guess?"

"I'm setting you on your path," Q said.

"I don't suppose I get an explanation of what exactly that path is?" Wes asked, hoping he could stall for time. He knew Q could just snap his fingers and send Wes wherever (and whenever) he pleased, but since he hadn't done that yet Wes thought maybe he had a chance to get some less cryptic information from Q.

Q sighed, obviously annoyed that the mortal peon wasn't just accepting his word, but Wesley took it as a good sign that he didn't get snapped into space. Instead, Q sat down on the end of his bed, putting on a show of examining his fingernails as he spoke and making his voice sound as bored as possible. "I suppose I could give you a hint," he said.

Wes shrugged. "That'd be nice."

"Nice, but a waste of time," Q said, looking over at Wes. "I should really just send you on your way, but with my luck you'll screw that up, too."

"Good to know you have so much faith in me," Wes said, struggling not to openly laugh, he knew that would just make matters worse.

"You're a human, of course I don't have faith in you," Q snapped. "What do you know about the workings of time and the universe?"

Wesley didn't answer, he just shrugged. He didn't take offense, it was how Q treated all humans as far as Wes could tell from the times he'd seen Q and the reports he'd read on any and all encounters with the being. He just waited patiently to see what Q was going to do next.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Q said. "You were supposed to be here, but you aren't supposed to be here any longer. You lingered too long and it falls to me to send you on your way and make sure you get there when you're supposed to get there."

"And where am I supposed to be?"

"Not here."

"Helpful."

"I'm not here to be helpful to you, I'm here to make sure all of time doesn't get irrevocably screwed up by the Travelers interfering in your life."

"Do the Travelers know I'm not supposed to be here?"

"No," Q said after a moment, and the pause was enough to make Wesley wonder, especially when the response was exactly what he'd expected.

"So how do you know this isn't a completely acceptable path for me to be on?" Wes asked, trying to remember everything he'd learned about temporal mechanics in the academy. It was a tough subject, but he was pretty sure he had a good enough grasp of it to at least hold his own. He hoped, though he doubted it would be particularly helpful in a discussion with Q. "If I remember correctly, time is like a river with hundreds of branches, how do you know I'm not on one of the branches out there for me?"

"There are fixed points," Q answered. "There are certain things that have to happen or everything will fall apart. This is one of those points."

"As flattering as it is to think the fate of the universe hinges on what I'm doing at this moment, I highly doubt it," Wes said, shaking his head. "I'm not exactly important."

"You're a human traveling with the Travelers, how exactly is that _not_ important?" Q queried, cocking an eyebrow and leaning towards Wes when the young man did not respond. "Oh, you humans, always playing your false modesty card when it obviously doesn't apply." Q shook his head and clucked his tongue like a disappointed parent and it was all Wes could do to resist punching him like Commander Sisko had when he'd visited Deep Space Nine while he waited for Q to continue.

Q stood and began pacing back and forth in front of Wesley's bed, his agitation growing with every step he took. After a minute, he halted abruptly and turned to face Wes again. "I'm going to send you to the place you're supposed to be," he said. "I'm not allowed to tell you what you're supposed to _do_ there, which makes this entire conversation about as pointless as synthehol, but if I'm right you'll do what you're supposed to do anyway so it doesn't really matter."

"And what if you're wrong?" Wes asked before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer, but the question was already out there and all he could do now was see whether Q ignored him or not.

"If I'm wrong, all of time will unravel, starting with you," Q said, pointing very melodramatically at Wes. "So you better not screw this up," he added, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Lay down." Wes obeyed, keeping his eyes on Q, who had raised his right hand. "When you wake up, you will be where you're supposed to be. Just make sure you do what you're supposed to do."

"Helpful," Wes muttered, feeling himself drift off to sleep as he settled his head into the dent it had already left in the pillow. His eyes fluttered closed, though he struggled to keep an eye on Q, who was watching him carefully. Or, he was before Wes' eyes closed. And as he lingered on the threshold between sleeping and waking, that moment where everything seems louder, Wes thought he heard someone snap.


End file.
